Chapter 98

Babette narrowed her eyes at Millie. "So, you've decided to abandon the Bennett family?"

Millie took a step forward, closing the space between them.

"Is that a threat?" she asked, her voice cold.

Babette gave a low, mirthless laugh. "Hasn't it always been a threat?"

Millie's eyes narrowed. "I thought this was a negotiation."

Babette sneered. "You're just a woman clinging to the Watson family to survive. What makes you think you have the right to negotiate with me?"

As she spoke, she waved her phone, the screen lit with a message from Vivian.

Then she pointed toward a side door, where Brandon stood, deep in conversation-with Vivian.

Even dressed plainly, there was no mistaking her.

Millie's lips curled faintly. Just moments ago, Brandon had refused Vivian's calls in front of her. And now here he was, bringing her in person.

"Brandon hasn't loved you for a long time,"Babette said flatly."Your time in the Watson family is almost up. What are you planning to do-wait for Vivian to die, pretend nothing happened and then keep playing the role of Mrs. Watson? It's not going to happen. Trust me."

But Millie didn't look away. Her eyes were still fixed on Brandon, who leaned in close to Vivian, pointing at something on her phone.

Their closeness, even in the dim light, was unmistakable.

"Had enough?" Babette asked, her voice cutting. "Vivian and I are working together. Taking over the Bennett family's remaining ties inside the Watson Group will be easy."

Millie finally turned back to face her. Babette smiled. "Your family's glory died with James."

As she saw the flickerin Millie's expression, Babette's laughter grew louder, more biting. "How does it feel? Do you hate me?"

But underneath the taunt, there was something else in her eyes-something heavy, something close to sorrow.

"I hate you more than you'll ever know,"Babette whispered. "Didn't you win him, Millie? Let's make a bet. If you win, I'll leave the Bennett family's old connections alone. But if you lose, you have two options-let me take over those connections... or tell me the truth about what happened in Flesta all those years ago."

She swirled the wine in her glass. "We'll bet on this wine. See all those glasses on the table? Choose the one you think is 'Miss'. Pick correctly, and you win."

Millie stared at her, a wave of sadness rising in her chest.

"This isn't the Babette I once knew," she said quietly.

The proud, poised Babette would never have resorted to such low tactics.

When had she changed? And why?

"What, are you afraid to bet?" Babette's voice had hardened, but there was a tremor in it.

Millie smiled faintly.

"Egbert's vineyard in southwest Flesta," she began,"isknown for producing wines with smooth texture and rich, fruity notes. He crafted this wine himself, four years ago. It's ruby red-clean, with a deep finish."

Babette's smile began to falter as Millie spoke.

"This," Millie continued, gesturing toward the table, "is a private collection. You wouldn't risk serving an inferior wine at your own party. Not when you're trying to secure yourplace in Crobert's elite circles.You wouldn't fake something Egbert gave you, either. Shall I go on?"

Babette said nothing. Millie walked slowly to the tasting table, scanned the glasses, and selected one.

She took a small sip, and then returned, glass in hand.

The wine shimmered like a jewel under the lights.

As she saw the flickerin Millie's expression, Babette's laughter grew louder, more biting. "How does it feel? Do you hate me?"

But underneath the taunt, there was something else in her eyes-something heavy, something close to sorrow.

"I hate you more than you'll ever know,"Babette whispered. "Didn't you win him, Millie? Let's make a bet. If you win, I'll leave the Bennett family's old connections alone. But if you lose, you have two options-let me take over those connections... or tell me the truth about what happened in Flesta all those years ago."

She swirled the wine in her glass. "We'll bet on this wine. See all those glasses on the table? Choose the one you think is 'Miss'. Pick correctly, and you win."

Millie stared at her, a wave of sadness rising in her chest.

"This isn't the Babette I once knew," she said quietly.

The proud, poised Babette would never have resorted to such low tactics.

When had she changed? And why?

"What, are you afraid to bet?" Babette's voice had hardened, but there was a tremor in it.

Millie smiled faintly.

"Egbert's vineyard in southwest Flesta," she began,"isknown for producing wines with smooth texture and rich, fruity notes. He crafted this wine himself, four years ago. It's ruby red-clean, with a deep finish."

Babette's smile began to falter as Millie spoke.

"This," Millie continued, gesturing toward the table, "is a private collection. You wouldn't risk serving an inferior wine at your own party. Not when you're trying to secure yourplace in Crobert's elite circles.You wouldn't fake something Egbert gave you, either. Shall I go on?"

Babette said nothing. Millie walked slowly to the tasting table, scanned the glasses, and selected one.

She took a small sip, and then returned, glass in hand.

The wine shimmered like a jewel under the lights.

"In his early days, he was cruel-everyone knew it. He went through business deals and walked away like they were games. What made you different? What did you do, Millie? What did you give him?"

Millie looked at her calmly, her grip steady on the glass. "You said it yourself, Babette. It wasn't me. It was the Watson Group's technical breakthrough that changed everything."

Babette froze.

The words she had used to discredit Millie had now been turned back on her.

And in doing so, they revealed the fact that Babette had believed Millie was at the heart of it all without even realizing it.

Red-eyed, Babette stared at her in silence. Millie didn't return the gaze.

she asked quietly,"what's the verdict? Did I win? If so, then the Bennett family's-"

"You didn't win!" Babette suddenly screamed. Her voice sliced through the hum of the crowd, drawing eyes.

"Yes, that glass is 'Miss'-but so what?" Her laugh was sharp, almost manic. "The Bennett family is gone, Millie. It's nothing now. What remains now is just a department under the Watson Group'sthumb.Your father is dead. Even if you picked the right wine, what does it-"

Before Babette could finish, Millie calmly lifted the glass and poured the ruby liquid over her.

The wine streamed down Babette's cheek, staining her skin, soaking her gown. The deep red clung like blood to her designer dress.

Millie stood still, the empty glass still in her hand.